A Very Merry Bethyl Christmas
by TheSheriffAndSamurai
Summary: A collection of one-shots based in or around Christmas featuring our favourite pair of butt-kicking walker killers. Considered AU- no apocalypse, Beth is alive.
1. Shopping

**Who Knew Daryl Dixon Was So Hard To Shop For?**

If there was one thing Beth Greene knew, it was that shopping for a Christmas gift for Daryl Dixon could be counted as pure and utter torture. Only last August it had been his birthday and she'd gotten him some shirts but they were without sleeves in only a matter of days. She always teased him about being a August baby, she herself being born in September, because Virgos were known for their intellect and independence, something, she always joked, Daryl didn't have.

But, what did you get for the man that had nothing?

The thought ran over and over Beth's mind, gifts ranging from movies to socks, but she came up empty handed. It was their first Christmas as a couple and she hated feeling like she didn't know him well enough to pick him out a present.

He'd gotten hers weeks ago, she'd found it wrapped in a blanket in their closet. She didn't bother looking at it, put it back without a word, and continued her pursuit for presents.

She stared down at the list she'd scrambled together early that morning of things that she could get him. She could think of plenty of gifts she herself wanted but none for him- at all. There were atleast eight items but reflecting back on them, they were all terrible.

What man like Daryl Dixon wants candles? Maybe he liked them, Beth shrugged, rounding the corner of the aisle with her basket held in front of her, dangling limply.

Maggie had gotten Glenn's present when they went out last- a sighed baseball cap- and a cd of all his favourite music. Beth had asked for her sister's help but she'd only shook her head.

_'I can't help you, Bethy, gotta come from the heart.'_

And darn Maggie for being right.

He wouldn't want a book unless it had pictures in it and she refused to buy him a book suited for an eight year-old. He wouldn't want movies because he'd never been a movie person; they didn't even have a television, just a laptop.

She was easy to shop for. Jewellery, music- Taylor Swift or something from the country music aisle- or teddies. She could barely count the amounts of bears she still had sitting in her old room in her family's farm house. Since she'd moved out to join Daryl in what they called their 'Moonshine Shack', which was infamously named for the time he got her drunk for the first time, she only had only cuddly thing on her bed and that was Daryl.

Beth stared at the shop across the way. Maybe Daryl could get into cooking, she thought, but once it slipped her mind, she started laughing in the middle of the shop.

Turning, she caught a number of eyes on her blushing face.

Daryl was a hunter, simple. She could get him a new crossbow but the one he used now was so faithfully treasured that she doubted he'd use it. It wasn't that he wouldn't appreciate it, it was just that he was a traditional man.

Beth stared at the row of sweaters lining the wall with a smirk. There was only one article of clothing he couldn't tear the sleeves- pant legs too- off of and it was a sweater. She was going to buy him the ugliest Christmas sweater she could find and laugh as his world crashed down around him when they turned up at her family's farm house and he had to sit across from her father dressed all jolly in the most ridiculous and cheerful piece of clothing in the world.

Merry Christmas, Daryl Dixon, she thought, approaching the store clerk with a large grin.


	2. Christmas Tree

"I like this one," Beth said cheerfully despite the winter cold forcing redness on her nose and cheeks. She turned to look at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Not taking no for an answer, Daryl Dixon. This is the one, this is _our_ tree."

"Don't like it," he grumbled, kicking at the snow piling around his feet.

The blonde rolled her eyes, smiling at him. "'Course you wouldn't, you like nothing but me."

"Don't get cocky, Greene."

"I prefer the term confident," she laughed, adjusting her beanie on her head. "Well, if you aren't going to help then atleast start chopping it down."

"Told ya, I don't like it."

She turned to fix him with a stare, furrowing her eyebrows at him. "Then which one do _you_ want?"

"This one?" he said, pointing at small mound of green that sat limply, collecting snow.

"That's pathetic," Beth exclaimed, biting back a grin. "Atleast pick one we can actually decorate. It's not Christmas otherwise, Daryl."

"Fine, we'll get this one," he grunts, admitting defeat. "But you have to carry it to the car."

She beams at him, waiting for the swing of the axe to claim the tree as their own. "Oh, and while we're at that," she says softly, trying to fight off the grin that's consuming her face. "I'll have to cook extra Christmas food this year."

He turns to her, mid-swing. "What you talking 'bout? You invited your family?"

"I'm eating for two this year," she tells him, waiting for him to do something but he doesn't. "Daryl, I'm pregnant. Seven weeks."

"Are you kidding?" he asks her, eyebrows narrowed. "W-We're having a baby?"

"Yes!" she says excitedly, accepting the kiss his lips offer her. "So, hurry up, it's cold and we need to get this tree home."

"Guess you won't be carrying it to the car, then," he says quietly in hidden amusement but Beth doesn't miss his words.

She laughs at him. "Got chopping, Mr. Dixon. Better get started or this baby will pop out before you finally get this thing down."

"Yes, mam."


End file.
